


Impulse

by murderousfiligree



Category: Invader Zim, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, I promise you this isn't as ridiculous as it sounds, M/M, Multi, Slow-building Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/615252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderousfiligree/pseuds/murderousfiligree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dib unwittingly sends himself over two hundred years in the future in a misguided attempt to destroy Zim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) 2011.

Dib skulked through the shadows of the darkened house, stilling his breath behind a shaking palm. The little robot had left the window carelessly ajar, and he had entered with relative ease—but remaining undetected was another feat entirely.

He sank down on all fours, maneuvering past the kitchen table, desperately searching for the entrance to Zim's lab. The dark and dismal room exposed little to his eyes, but to his ears all was revealed—the Irken's voice echoed from the tiny trashcan, filling the kitchen with muffled exclamations. Dib shakily started towards the orifice, clutching a makeshift weapon of his own creation. It was essentially a water gun, ingeniously designed to sear Irken flesh—and the plastic object did not aid his confidence in the slightest. He placed a hand on the lid and lifted tentatively. The impassioned yelling was clear and sharp as glass.

Dib swallowed hard and stepped into the trashcan.

It consumed him, pushing him deep into the bowels of the Irken's home, and with each dreadful moment the voice grew louder. Dib began to regret his decision, clawing at the frictionless walls of the portal. He struggled in vain; the journey lasted only seconds, and he crashed inelegantly on the floor of Zim's lab.

The Irken was miraculously unaware of his presence.

"My Tallest?  _My Tallest?_ Yes. I understand, you must be very busy but—we haven't discussed my  _brilliant_  plans in weeks, and—"

Dib clutched the water gun with trembling hands, stepping quietly into the shadows. He stumbled through haphazardly strewn wires and unfamiliar technologies, resisting the urge to inspect them more closely. He did not have time to spare.

" _Please_  listen to me! My Tallest—"

Dib sidestepped through the labyrinth, eyes fixed in Zim's direction, searching desperately for something—anything—that resembled his objective. He knew Zim possessed time-travelling technology, but he could not for the life of him locate anything that looked like a time machine. He glanced nervously at the trail of water his gun was leaving, realizing it might have been wiser to come unarmed.

"Please, please,  _please_ —"

The lab fell disturbingly silent.

Dib's heartbeat roared like thunder in his ears. He tiptoed behind a bizarre piece of machinery, cursing his choice of weapon as it dripped noisy on the tile floor.

Zim muttered something inaudible to himself, and his footsteps echoed throughout the cavernous room.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Dib glanced at the growing pool of water at his feet, frowning.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

He turned the gun so the nozzle was facing upwards, and the incessant noise stopped; Zim seemed otherwise occupied, hissing crossly under his breath. Dib sighed and glanced up at the structure he'd taken refuge behind.

It looked suspiciously like a portal. In fact, he was rather certain it was a portal—potentially a portal of the time variety.

Dib grinned despite himself.  _Perfect._  He set down his weapon, running his hands carefully over the contraption.  _Now I just have to figure out how to use it._

This proved next to impossible. He poked and prodded at it, kicked it, even begged it to start working to no avail. Dib swore quietly, furrowing his brow in frustration. "How in the hell do you work this thing?"

"Oh, that's  _easy!_ " the robot screeched, suddenly appearing at his side.

Dib's eyes widened in horror.

"You just pull this lever, see!" it yanked down on a blatantly obvious control situated beside the machine, and Dib mentally slapped himself for not noticing it earlier. "Uh…thanks?"

"No problem!" it squealed. "I  _love_  levers."

Dib nodded nervously, tapping randomly at the alien controls. He recognized a few Irken symbols from hacking into Zim's computer system, but he couldn't make rhyme or reason of this particular panel. The robot hovered quietly behind him, watching the kaleidoscopic colors swirl within the portal.

"So whatcha doin?" it asked.

"Travelling."

"Oooo. Where?"

"Back."

"Back where?"

"In time."

"Why?"

"To, uh…" Dib struggled for a viable excuse. "Warn myself about an upcoming test, that's all."

The robot seemed to consider this. "That's silly," it decided.

"Yeah," Dib muttered. "It kinda is." He keyed in what he prayed was the correct date, taking a step back from the controls.

" _Gir_!" a voice screeched. "What are you doing?  _Stop him!_ "

Zim stormed into view, eyes bright scarlet fury. "Dib-stink! Get your filthy  _hyu_ man hands off of my time machine!"

"Never!" Dib screamed, grinning victoriously. "You'll never catch me, Zim! By the time I enter this portal you'll be dead—because I'll have killed you—in the past! Before you ever knew me, Zim! You never thought your technology would be used against you, huh? Well it's  _over_ , Zim!"

The Irken raised a nonexistent eyebrow, glancing at the controls. "Eh?"

"I'm travelling back in time. To kill you before you get the chance to set up base at Earth," Dib clarified.

"So…you're travelling back in time."

"Yes."

"Go, then," Zim said nonchalantly. "It will not stop  _Zim_."

Dib tilted his head, perplexed. "That's…um...really stupid." He turned towards the portal, taking a deep breath. "Well…goodbye, Zim!"

"Bye."

He glanced over his shoulder. "You're really ruining the dramatic effect here."

Zim made a shooing motion with one glove. Dib sighed, stifling his frustration, and fell headfirst into the past.


	2. Chapter 2

Dib awoke on a crowded street, head throbbing, a bruise blossoming on his temple. Falling face-first into a portal meant falling face-first onto the concrete—he cursed his theatrics, staggering blearily to his feet.

 

He looked around, searching for any signs of his home circa two-years ago; he hoped the portal had sent him a few months ahead, giving him plenty of time to prepare for Zim's arrival.

After a few seconds of careful observation, Dib realized something was very, very wrong.

Skyscrapers clawed at a stark blue sky, shimmering with a certain cleanliness that was uncharacteristic of his city. The people were dressed strangely; some in uniform, some in oddly cut shirts and tight-fitting jeans. And in the seemingly endless crowd he could not recognize a single face. Dib began to sweat.

This was not his home.

"Excuse me," he whimpered, tugging at the sleeve of an older woman. "Wh-where am I?"

"Chicago, dear. Are you lost?"

Dib nodded.  _Right place._  "What year is it, ma'am?"

"What year is it?" She raised an eyebrow, taking note of his forehead. "Oh, it seems you've taken a nasty fall…do you know where your parents are?"

"No ma'am."

"Well, I guess we'll take you to the police. They'll keep you safe." The woman smiled—she was a petite little thing, with greying hair and a motherly smile. She took him gently by the wrist, and they pushed against the current of the crowd like salmon swimming upstream.

"Thank you," Dib said.

"Don't mention it, honey. I couldn't leave a child wandering around in a city. How old are you, dear? What's your name?"

"Twelve. Dib."

"Dib…an odd name. Are you from around here?"

Dib considered this. "N-no," he decided. "I'm from out of state. I'm just visiting with my parents."

"I see," the woman said, quickening her pace. "I can see why you'd want to visit. The city is really quite beautiful in the spring. Absolutely lovely." She rounded the corner and they were suddenly in front of an elaborately polished building; white pillars stood at attention, framing sliding glass doors and an obvious crowd within. "Well," the woman said, "here we are."

"Where do I go?" Dib asked nervously, searching the crowd for a familiar police uniform.

"Oh, just find an officer and he'll be able to find your parents." She smiled wholeheartedly at him. "I'm afraid I can't stick around. I hope you find your parents, Deb!"

"Wait!" Dib called after her. "Wh-what year did you say it was?"

She raised an eyebrow again. "It's 2260, dear."

Dib's stomach dropped into his feet. "Oh. Th-thank you."

She smiled and disappeared into the sea of faces. Dib turned towards the glass doors, swallowing the lump in his throat.

_This is definitely not home._

"You say you don't remember anything, son?" The policeman furrowed his brow. "Nothing but your name?"

"Yes, sir." Dib shifted uneasily on the metal seat, blinking back tears. He was still numb, but tottered dangerously on the verge of a breakdown. Dreamlike detachment held him in abeyance; he assured himself that he would find his way back home, that he would see his family again. He soundlessly repeated these fables, making sporadic eye contact with the officer. "I…don't remember anything."

"Likely t'do with that bump on your head. We'll send out your name, n' hopefully your parents will be lookin' for ya. You said you lived around here?"

"I…don't know."

The man scowled. "Well, until then, I suppose we can send ya to the orphanage to sleep."

Dib nodded quietly. "Th-thank you, sir."

"Don't mention it, kid."

The officer left, and Dib resumed staring at the polished marble floors. "I'll get out of here," he whispered. "I'll get home."

Dib was furious. He lay sprawled on the white twin bed, watching the shadows undulate on the orphanage ceiling; he had begun to ponder in depth his mistake at the time machine. The warning signs he missed. Zim's nonchalance. It was such an incredibly  _stupid_  thing to do and now he was  _stranded_  over two hundred years in the future, completely ignorant to the customs of his own planet, and a complete stranger to everyone he encountered.

Dib turned to face the wall, expressing his frustration with a violent tug of the bed sheet. His roommate snored from the other side of the room—head tilted back, mouth wide open—and he considered the incessant noise the single most awful sound he'd had the misfortune to encounter in his young life. He pulled the pillow over his head, cursing himself and Zim a thousand times over.

His only consolation was that the Irken had, apparently, failed in his endeavor to take over his planet—unless his species was considerably more amiable than they presented themselves, and had devoted countless resources to the improvement and cleanliness of Earth. Zim had failed, with or without his intervention.

And that was a disheartening thought in and of itself.

_The future turned out just fine without me there_ , Dib realized.  _The world didn't need me. It never did._

His fury seeped out onto the twin bed, draining into the folds of the blanket. He was empty without it; left deflated and cold, having burned through it as quickly as paper in a bonfire.

_If I try to go back, I might even make things worse._ Dib frowned and shut his eyes, praying that it had all been a nightmare, that he would awaken in his own bed, warm and welcome, but knowing this all to be false; he fell asleep despite the horrendous snoring, and the fascinating patterns on the wall. He slept fitfully, and woke with questions lingering on his tongue.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dib wiped the gloom from his morning eyes, and rose to full attention.  _If I didn't make a difference in the past, I can sure as hell make one now._  He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.  _I've just got to find out everything I can about this time. I've got to fit in. I've got to do_ something.

He glared at the perturbing roommate, a boy of roughly fourteen—still snoring, asleep despite the sunlight slipping in through the open window. Dib sighed and pulled on boots, making a beeline for the door.  _But first thing's first: I've got to get out of here._

* * *

"What do you mean I can't leave?"

The woman at the counter raised an eyebrow at him, peering out from behind a glass-thin computer. "Dib, you're only twelve years old. Well, allegedly twelve years old, we have no real proof of that—according to our computers, you don't exist, and you don't match up with any of the missing child reports filed in the past year. We can't just let you leave. You're still a child."

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life in an orphanage!"

"Then you'll just have to wait to be adopted, like the rest of the children." Her expression melted into something resembling sympathy. "Look. I know it's not easy. You must of have experienced some sort of head trauma, but it's likely your memories will be recovered—and then you can go home. Or, you could be adopted. There are plenty of women generous enough to give a child a home these days, even if they do typically try for younger ones."

Her tone was tinged with pessimism, and Dib's heart sank at her final words. "Younger ones, huh?"

"But I'm sure someone will express interest in you…"

"What about the kid I'm sharing a room with? How long's he been here?"

The woman pursed her lips before they stretched into a tight-lipped smile. "He is…different. You're younger and brighter than he is. I can tell. Intelligence is something adopting families look for."

Dib sighed. "Okay. Fine. So I can't leave the orphanage? I can't step foot out of this building?"

"Not without supervision."

"I'd like to do some exploring—"

"We have occasional field trips."

"Occasional?" Dib groaned. "Could I please look around? Maybe it would spark my memory?"

The woman placed a manicured hand on top of his, smiling like a worn and weary mother. "Later, Dib. Okay? Someone who is not me, and does not have all of this work to do, will take you sightseeing. Now please join the others for breakfast."

Accepting defeat, Dib departed from the front desk with a curt nod and a frown.  _This is going to be more difficult than I thought._

* * *

It wasn't, though. With ample complaining, he was promised a counselor to sort things out—and she appeared not two days after his initial request.

She was a mousy young woman with glasses and a diminutive smile. It was ten in the morning when she appeared at his door, clutching a folder of papers and tapping her foot, as if nervous. "Hello," she said. "You're Dib, right?"

"Yeah, that's me." Dib looked up from the napkin he'd been scribbling on. Paper had been almost impossible to find, seeing as everything was digitalized. "Who're you?"

"I'm Tracy." She stepped into the room, movements subtle and tense as static electricity. "I am here to help you recall your memory. You want to sightsee, correct?"

Dib shifted uncomfortably on his bed. "Umm…yeah. Yeah, let's go outside. I think that might really help me…um…remember."

"Wonderful," she said, gesturing for him to follow. Her resolve seemed to melt; her anxious movements become smooth as she walked. "Then we'll need to leave now if we're to get back in time for dinner."

"What about lunch?"

"Oh, we'll grab something while we're out." She winked at him. "I'm the cool counselor around here. Things've been rough lately, handling all the other children, but you seem responsible enough. This is a chance for you and I both to get out."

Dib managed a smile. "Great," he said. "Let's go."

* * *

When actually looking for abnormalities, Dib was astounded at their vast number; hardly a single building was recognizable, and many street names had been changed. Low-flying machines whizzed by in blur; they shone bright as diamonds against the sapphire sky.

He could not get over how  _clean_  everything was. In his time, the city had been filth—murky, smog-filled skies, trashcans spilling over, decrepit buildings the color of soiled meat. This city was its antithesis, and its people did not loathe him. He was a stranger, a blank slate, reborn into a new era. He was free.

Dib's smile widened.

"Is there anywhere in particular you would like to go?"

He turned towards Tracy, his smile fading a little. "Yeah. Everything seems familiar, but at the same time unfamiliar, you know?"

She nodded. "Well, do you remember where you think you live?"

"I…is Fascination Street anywhere around here?"

"Never heard of it," she admitted, pulling out a tiny mobile device. "But I can certainly look it up."

She typed in something too fast for him to see, and he shifted uncomfortably in the growing crowd. All sorts of bizarre folk walked the streets, perambulating with definite intent—he leaned against the Orphanage building to keep out of the way.

"Well, it  _did_ exist. Some hundred years ago. It's called Thousandth Avenue now." She raised an eyebrow at him. "How did you know about a street name like that?"

Dib shrugged helplessly. "Maybe I was into obscure historical facts. I don't really remember."

"Hmm." She glanced around. "Well, if you think it'll spark your memory, it's only a twenty minute walk from here. You up for it?"

He shrugged again. "Why not?"

"All righty then." She touched the device a few times and a voice cut through the crowd—"Go straight for two miles."

"Let's go."

Dib boggled at the instrument and started after her.

* * *

His street looked absolutely nothing like his street. Not a single house remained, and the roads were newly pathed—trees and bushes flourished in the once barren land. He looked around, and for a moment, could not decide where his house would be—not that it mattered, anyways. A new family resided there; he had walked its grounds two centuries ago as owner of the place, but now he owned nothing but the clothes on his back. Not even his name had meaning.

"Do you recognize anything?" Tracy asked.

Dib walked over to the empty space between two houses, frowning. Patches of discolored grass sullied the yard, and there were deep holes as if something had been recently uprooted.

"No…I…don't think I do."

"Strange," she said, following his gaze. "I could have sworn someone used to live there."

Dib's heart skipped a beat. "Really?"  
She furrowed her brow. "No…no, I must be mistaken. I thought there might have been a house there, but I've only stopped by this neighborhood once. Years ago. Heavens know why."

"I see." Dib glanced at the tarnished earth one last time, and turned towards the cul-de-sac. "I'm sorry, Tracy, I don't think this has helped me much, after all."

She smiled apologetically. "Oh, that's all right Dib. I'm sure you'll get your memory back eventually…but in the meantime, would you like something to eat?"

"I…guess so."

"Excellent." She gestured for him to follow, and he set out reluctantly after; his eyes lingered on the empty lot, and he fathomed he still heard the echoes of Zim's maniacal laughter.

 


	4. Chapter 4

"Mom!" Dib called. "Mom, I'm going to be late for orientation!"

"Calm down, we're going to get there on time. Your flight doesn't leave for another two hours."

Dib furrowed his brow. He had been with his adopted family for nearly five years, and he still wasn't used to their complete lack of punctuality. His father had always been on time for his business engagements, and adjusting to the new environment had been bewildering at first.

The Harper family was very laidback, as Dib was the only child. Jenna Harper complained of infertility, and visited the orphanage with an intention of getting a baby—but she took an instant liking to Dib and he to her. In time they grew into a dysfunctional sort of family.

"Mom. It takes an hour to get to the airport."

"And your orientation isn't even until tomorrow." The redheaded woman grinned at him, ruffling his hair. "I know you're nervous, sweetie. But stressing is only going to make things worse."

"Mom. I don't think you understand. This is  _Starfleet Academy_  we're talking about. I could be in space in four years."

"I know. I have faith in you, sweetie."

"No, Mom, you still don't understand. They have  _Vulcans_  and everything there. They have real  _aliens_."

The woman frowned, placing a hand on her hip. She stood silhouetted against blinds, in all the glory of her nightshirt and sweatpants. "How many times have I told you not to use that term? Some people find it offensive."

"Sorry, sorry—why aren't you dressed? We need to eat, no—we'll eat at the airport, it's too late now." He shouldered his duffel bag. "Let's go."

"Dib. Honey. It's going to be at least another half hour before we leave. Do some reading to calm yourself down—study your biology or something."

"I…You know what, I'm actually going to run outside for a bit while you get ready. I need some fresh air."

She rolled her eyes. "All right. But you better be back in a half hour—if you're rushing me to get ready and you aren't even ready to go yourself—"

"Yep, thanksMombyeMom!" He dropped his luggage and rushed past her. She sighed and shook her head.

"Be safe!"

Dib sprinted down the street, trenchcoat billowing behind him. His adopted mother had tried to talk him out of wearing it—but he had steadfastly refused. It was part of his persona, and it would not be abandoned for mere formalities; he only planned on giving it up in return for a Starfleet uniform. He turned the corner, boots skidding raucously against the concrete.

When he finally reached his destination, he was completely out of breath. It was hardly fit to be called a cemetery; trees and vines plagued decaying tombstones, and the area was no longer marked as such. It was only through years of meticulous searching that he had located it—and that was only because his father had been something of a celebrity.

Dib started for the largest tombstone, dead center; he wiped away the dust with a familiar hand. "MEMBRANE," it read. He smiled sadly at the inscription, kneeling before it.

"Hi dad," he said.

The trees rustled in quiet response; the slight chill of the summer wind ensconced him in a friendly embrace.

"Well, I guess I finally did it. You'd never imagine, huh? I mean, I told you about the aliens already, and I told you about Starfleet, but…I'm going there today. I really am. It's…it's real science, ya know?" He swallowed hard. "I just wish you could be there to see it."

Tears pinpricked his eyes, but he continued regardless: "You'd be so proud of me. I just know you would. Jenna and Ben are great, but…I miss you and Gaz sometimes." He laughed, wiping his nose on his arm. "Missing Gaz. I know. Crazy. I never thought I'd say those words in a thousand years. But I guess it only took two hundred."

He sat in silence for a few more minutes, blinking back tears.

"I know you probably can't hear me, but…I do love you. Sometimes I want to find a way to go back, but…I can't help but feel like I was meant to be here. I was meant to do something great." He smiled up at the tombstone. "I'll make you proud. I'll come back with one hell of a story to tell."

Dib rose to his feet, enthused. "Goodbye, Dad. See you in a few years."

* * *

"Dib Harper, get in the car. I've been waiting for ten minutes."

"I've got to grab my bag—"

"It's already in the car."

"What about my—"

"Dib. Car. Now."

Dib sighed, hopping into the vehicle; the door swung closed behind him, and his mother slipped into the front seat.

"This happens every time, I swear. You always rush me, and then you just  _vanish—_ "

"Mom, I'm sorry, okay?" He smiled at her in the reflective mirror.

She rolled her eyes and slammed her foot on the gas.

* * *

"Let me know as soon as you get there."

"I will, Mom."

"Don't forget to be respectful to all the professors."

"I will, Mom."

"And be polite to the Vulcans and Andorians and Orions and whoever else goes there—they are people, not science experiments."

"I know, Mom, I know!"

Jenna Harper smiled at her only son, kissing him firmly on the forehead. "Good luck, Dib."

He nodded and stepped onto the platform. "Thanks, Mom. Bye."

 


	5. Chapter 5

Dib collapsed into his seat. His eyes were instantly drawn to the airplane window, but his mind wandered elsewhere; in the five years he had known about Starfleet, he had done nothing but dream of studying there. His childhood affinity for aliens—the passion for which he was ceaselessly ridiculed—finally had a legitimate outlet. And even more, he could travel the galaxy—perhaps on one of the new Constitution class star ships he had heard so much about.

"Anyone sitting here?"

Dib looked up. A young woman gazed expectantly at him, adjusting the Starfleet canvas bag on her shoulder.

"N-no," he stuttered. He was reminded of his childhood fieldtrips—the entire bus of students would sit directly opposite him, as far away as humanly possible. "Please do sit, actually."

She placed the bag on the ground, beaming at him. "Is it your first time too?"

"Flying? Yes. Studying at the Academy? Also yes."

"Me too," she said. "Well, I mean, I've flown before. But I'm a freshman too. What are you studying?"

"Exobiology," he said proudly.

"Nice! I'm going into medicine. I'm Sara, by the way. Sara Key."

"Dib Harper. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She leaned towards him, gazing out the window. "It's just, I can't believe it's finally happening, you know?"

"Yeah. I know." He smiled nervously. "I've been waiting years for this plane ride."

"Me too," she replied. "I honestly can't believe I passed the entrance exam. I've never been the best student."

"Yeah," Dib agreed halfheartedly. "I mean…I've always been kind of a nerd, but I was really happy when I found out I got in. It would've been a big disappointment if I hadn't, with all those summer classes my parents paid for…the training program is just really intense."

She nodded in agreement. "I know quite a few people who didn't get in. A real bummer, too—some of them were really smart."

"Yeah. Well, I mean, they can always try again—"

A mechanical voice sounded over the intercom, disrupting his train of thought:

_"Attention Passengers. The plane will be taking off in a few moments. Please fasten your seatbelts and refrain from standing at this time. Thank you, and enjoy your flight."_

"I'm so excited!" she squeaked, bright blue eyes reflecting the light of the window.

"Yeah," Dib repeated, heart hammering in his chest. "Yeah, I just hope the flight isn't too bad."

"Oh, the flights are always super smooth. Don't worry." She placed an assuring hand on his forearm.

He remained unconvinced.

"Taking off in three…two…" Dib held his breath as the engines roared to life; pressure began to build on his chest, and the ship lurched forward. "One."

From his window seat, he watched the world shrink to doll-size—his body felt like lead against his chair. He gripped the armrests, clenching his teeth, watching the ground rush by.

"Whee!" Sara said.

He looked at her helplessly.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad. You're going to be working in space—you need to get used to flying."

"Space is different," he countered. "I won't be spending much time landing and taking off."

She shrugged. "Touché."

The aircraft seemed to stabilize; the wind had stilled, the skies were sapphire, and they hurtled towards California at ten times the speed of sound.

* * *

"Yes, Mom. I made it here safely." He glanced apologetically at Sara, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear. "Yes, I know, I know. I'll be safe. Call you in a few days, okay? Love you." He shut the device, shoving it in his coat pocket. "Sorry."

"Don't worry, I completely understand. My mom is the same way."

"Yeah, I guess all parents are…but anyways, they aren't here now—and just,  _look_  at this place! I mean—it's beautiful!"

"It is," she agreed, gazing fondly at the campus. Emerald grass framed concrete sidewalks, and the buildings stood tall and proud. A gaggle of students were gathered around one of the doors; they bore the Starfleet insignia on their red uniforms, and they glanced dismissively at the new arrivers.  _Ex Astris Scientia_  was inscribed above one of the doors—Dib glanced at it, mentally translating the Latin. "Through the stars, knowledge," he mused aloud.

"You read Latin?" Sara asked.

"Well…er…I took a couple semesters in high school. Figured it'd help with my vocabulary. But I already knew the slogan by heart."

"Oh, right. I knew that. But I really should have taken Latin, especially since I'm going into medicine."

"Yeah. It's really useful in that field. Isn't really useful anywhere else, though."

"Yeah." Their conversation lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

"Well… orientation is in an hour," she said, glancing at her wristwatch. "I should probably find my dorm. I can't wait to meet all the other students!"

"I can't wait to meet my first alie—non-terran…person." He smiled tersely.

"Yeah, that'll be intense! There aren't many, but there are definitely a few around. I'll probably see you there. Bye, Dib!"

"Yeah. Bye." He shouldered his duffel bag and turned towards the throng of floundering freshman, who were fervently searching for their assigned dorms. He sighed, slipping into the crowd.

Dib received his keys after twenty minutes of waiting in a line of boisterous eighteen-year-olds. When he finally reached his room, he was grateful to find it small and silent—there were two twin beds, a single window, and barren walls. His roommate had already unpacked and was probably out exploring the campus; he was finally alone, and free to wander until orientation. Dib tossed his luggage onto the vacant bed furthest from the door, running a hand through his gelled hair. "Well, Dib, here you are," he said to himself. "You're in Starfleet Academy. You have about half an hour to kill. Should you go out and make friends? Probably." He struggled to find an alternative to this frightening prospect. "They have a library," he finally decided. "There will be plenty of time for meet-and-greet at orientation."

Satisfied with this, Dib started towards the door, and suddenly stopped short.  _I really need to stop talking to myself_ , he realized.  _My roommate's going to think I'm crazy._

"Well, I'll just work on that later. For now, the libr—shit, I'm doing it." He shook his head and yanked the door open. "Shit, shit, shit."

* * *

When he reached the library, a single vision flooded his mind's eye. It was something he hadn't thought about in years, and yet it always lurked just beneath his consciousness like a monster in the loch.

The patch of perturbed land where he was sure Zim's house used to be—the possibility of Irkens existing unbeknownst to the Federation. The possibility of a threat.

Dib plopped in front of one of the library computers, typing in the name and password he'd written on the back of his student ID card. The computer instantly logged him in, and he began his search of the database.

Irken, he typed, and hit  _search_.

_Error: There are no results to display for "Irken." Please refine your search or ask a librarian for assistance._

"Well, shit," he whispered, and refreshed the page; this time he searched in more general terms—for an encyclopedia of known alien species in the galaxy. He found quite a few, and eventually decided to check out three of the more promising volumes, shoving them in his backpack as he sprinted to orientation.  _It really had to be on the opposite side of campus,_  he thought with a frown.  _Of-fucking-course._


	6. Chapter 6

When Dib arrived, most of the students were already seated. He crept into the back row, trying not to draw attention to himself; Sara was nowhere to be seen, and the lights had already been dimmed in preparation for the speaker. He let his now-heavy backpack crumple to the floor, looking down at the empty podium with eager eyes.

A middle-aged man entered stage left and the room grew suddenly silent. He stared up at the crowd, hands clasped behind his back, smiling widely.

"Hello," he began. "I am Admiral J.R. Jennings, Director of Educational Services. Welcome to Starfleet Academy. You lot are really the cream of the crop—very bright young men and women, and I know you will thrive in our program here." He paused and smiled again. "Your classes will start in two days, but your schedules will be online tomorrow; if you still need to sign up for your classes, I recommend you do so immediately after orientation. Timeliness is an invaluable quality in a Starfleet officer, which I know most of you aspire to be—and it is a worthy aspiration. You are the future of the Federation. By choosing Starfleet you have committed your life to new discoveries in both the universe and in yourself; you have taken the first step on a journey that will last your entire lives." He looked fondly at the crowd, eyes bright with sincerity. "It is an honor to have you all here. Thank you."

Applause erupted and Dib clapped along—Admiral Jennings stepped down, waving magnanimously, and another man took his place. His features were sharp and angular, almost Vulcan—he had a blond crew cut and a stern expression. The applause yielded to silence.

"Hello, students. I am Lieutenant Commander Sofak. You might be excited about your experience, and rightfully so—but remember that nothing is more important than your studies. You have worked very hard to get here, and I have seen many students throw everything away in their first semester. Remember: it isn't enough to get into the Academy; you must remain in it, and that requires hard work. I wish you all the best of luck."

He nodded, and there was polite applause; more professors and officers stepped forward, offering advice and didactic anecdotes that seemed awfully repetitive after ten minutes. Dib was grateful when it was over, as he was itching to sift through the library books he had borrowed. When the last of the final applause died out, he made a beeline for door; he was readily prepared to take Sofak's advice.  _There is no such thing as too much studying. It'd be best to get ahead on my coursework, anyways._

The sun was setting behind the Golden Gate Bridge; it seemed black, silhouetted against purples and pinks, reaching into the darkening sky. He stared at it for a moment, struggling to catch his breath. Chicago was beautiful, but it was no match for San Francisco, with its temperate weather and desktop-background-worthy skyscapes. He considered taking a picture, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it occurred. "Got to head to the library. Roommate will be back soon. Better not bother with introductions right now, anyways. I'm sure he's busy with the rest of the freshmen and damn everything to hell I'm talking to myself."

He glanced around to make sure no one had heard him; the campus was almost deserted, and he thanked whatever gods he could think of as he headed towards the library. _I really, really need to stop doing that._

There wasn't a soul in the library, save for the librarian herself; she sat hunched over a tiny computer, reading with such intensity that Dib assumed it was some mesmerizing work of fiction. He nodded politely at her and spread his books out on one of the tables.

He flipped to the index of the first book, searching for 'Irken.' After systematically checking all three of the volumes, he concluded that Zim's species was not in the text. At least, not by name. "There's got to be  _something_  about them," he whispered. "A species that hostile wouldn't go unnoticed by the Federation."

He flipped through the first book, fascinated with the bizarre life forms depicted within. Most of the creatures were nonhumanoid—there were amoebalike structures aplenty—but each and every entry was fascinating. After nearly forty minutes of reading about the asexual mating habits of extraterrestrial protozoa, Dib managed to refocus on his objective: find Irkens.

Another hour and he realized the futility of his goal. He leafed through every single book, searching for any insectile humanoid to no avail. There were no Irkens. None. Zip. Nada. The closest thing he could find was the Orion—a green-skinned humanoid he was already well aware of, and had seen on various porn websites he had explored in his youth (although he would adamantly refuse to admit he ventured onto such sites). Green skin, however, did not make the Irken—short-tempers, pointy features, and red eyes made the Irken. A pain in the ass made the Irken.

It was almost nine o'clock when Dib decided to call it quits; he gathered his books under one arm, still intent on reading them for educational purposes. He nodded at the dozing librarian on his way out, disappointed by his lack of progress.  _I guess the Federation has never encountered them. Hell, maybe they're from another galaxy entirely. Maybe they decided Earth wasn't worth their time._

Contemplating this, Dib started listlessly towards his dorm. He was captivated, struggling to find a viable solution—no professor would believe him if he claimed to have knowledge of an aggressive alien race. He had absolutely no evidence to back up the claim, and nothing but his own memories to testify by.

Caught in the throes of frustration, he hardly noticed when he walked straight into a passing student, sending his books tumbling to the ground. "Sorry!" he squawked, kneeling to pick them up. "I wasn't paying attention…I…."

"Dib?"

Dib looked up and his mind ceased functioning. His mouth became instantly dry. Some awful mix of fear, surprise, and genuine wonder manifested itself as a rush of adrenaline. "Z-Zim?"

It certainly couldn't have been anyone else; the Irken was unmistakable with his discolored skin and blue-violet eyes. He'd barely aged a day in the six years since Dib had seen him—he was a bit taller, but not by much, and he'd displaced his perpetual sneer. They stared dumbly at each other.

"What are you doing here?" Dib finally asked, rising to his feet. "Did you come here after me? Why are you at the Academy? How did they even let you in?"

Zim seemed to consider the questions for a moment, and evidently decided they weren't worth his time. He brushed past Dib without saying a word.

"Hey!" Dib called after him. "Hey, you can't just  _ignore_ me! It's been six years!"

Zim continued walking, and Dib gaped after him.

_Guess I found an Irken after all._

* * *

When he returned to his dorm his roommate had yet to arrive; it was almost ten, and he had spent much of the night asking around about Zim. He was a freshman too, apparently, but no one else had much information on him. One girl assured him earnestly that Zim was "half Orion on his mother's side", and Dib found this enormously amusing.

Zim's presence still boggled his mind—the familiar face evoked crude memories of his childhood—and yet it was a face that had undoubtedly changed. Zim wasn't one to shirk confrontation; he was ostentatious, melodramatic, and narcissistic. His complete avoidance was intriguing and perplexing, and Dib was determined to uncover the cause.

_He might be planning something_ , Dib realized.  _He might be infiltrating Starfleet so that his species can invade our solar system. Why else would he still be on Earth?_

Dib collapsed onto his bed, overwhelmed.  _Of course, that's got to be it. I've got to tell one of the professors. Two centuries have passed—it won't be crazy to cry alien anymore. They'll take me seriously, and Zim will be kicked out._

But he wasn't sure if he wanted that. He was enthralled by the possibility of a mystery, of a challenge; running straight to the authorities would provide little entertainment. Besides, Zim owed him an explanation for the time machine—hell, if he'd used it to travel into the future, maybe it could be used to travel back.  _I could see my family again. I could say goodbye._

Dib set his glasses on the nightstand and shrugged off his trenchcoat.  _So I've got to get him to talk to me somehow. I've got to find out how he got here. And I've got to do it soon—any conniving plan of his will probably be implemented soon. I can't have him leaking vital Federation information to his leaders. I've got to keep a close eye on him._

Satisfied with this, Dib buried his face in his pillow and resolved to sleep on the matter. He would deal with his roommate (and any malicious alien threats) in the morning.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Dib's alarm clock roared to life with all the vigor of an infuriated Klingon. He slammed his hand on the snooze button and sat up with a groan—his roommate stirred in his sleep, oblivious to the commotion—it was five-thirty in the morning, a full hour before the commons opened for breakfast.

Dib tossed off his T-shirt in exchange for a fresh one, wondering when the Academy would issue uniforms for his class. He fancied the look of the outfit, although red never really suited him; it signified that he was part of something greater, part of the future of the Federation. Besides, people wouldn't instantly assume he was a freshman.

He shouldered his laptop case, casting one last glance in his roommate's direction. It was a dark-haired student with stubble on his face, mouth half-open and drooling on his pillow. Dib brushed passed his bed without pause, stepping into the brisk morning air.

Very few students were out and about, so Dib took the opportunity to read. He settled under a friendly-looking elm tree, making sure to intermittently look for Zim. It was a beautiful campus, and the sunrise only furthered his adoration; by six-fifteen it was teeming with students clad in red, and Dib closed his book to observe the crowd in depth.

The occasional non-terran stood out—a beautiful Vulcan girl caught his eye—but for the most part, the students were human. The Irken was nowhere in sight; albeit, he was very short, and the crowd had in all likelihood swallowed him up in pursuit of breakfast. Dib sighed and slipped his book into his computer case, letting the current of students lead him towards commons. Zim would have to wait.

He approached a replicator and ordered pancakes, keeping his eyes peeled for Zim. It was a spacious building with high ceilings and long tables; everything was perfectly organized, even the people—the upperclassmen sat in well-established groups, chatting and laughing while the freshman wandered aimlessly through the aisle. A few freshmen had paired off, or found comfort in groups, but Dib decided sitting alone in the back corner was the best possible course of action.

He slumped down in his seat and stuffed a generous portion of pancake into his mouth.

Still no Zim.

By the time he had finished, commons was still packed; he cursed Zim's elusiveness and decided to check his classes online. With any luck, they would have some of the same classes—a few courses were required, so it was certainly likely. He pulled out his computer and logged onto the Academy web page, finding his schedule had finally been added.

"Interspecies Ethics, Astrotheory 101, Early Starfleet History, Exobiology, and Latin," he read aloud. "Decent schedule for the first semester."

"What's your schedule?" a female voice asked.

Dib looked up and saw Sara, the girl from the airplane—he welcomed her with a smile and she sat across from him, scooping some sort of cereal into her mouth.

He repeated his schedule, and her smile almost split her face in two. "We have history and Latin together!" she squeaked.

He tried to mimic her enthusiasm. "Yeah, it's…great, right? Should be some pretty interesting classes. They start tomorrow, right?"

"Yep. I have biology, chemistry, and medicinal classes filling the rest of my schedule—I won't be doing any technical science, thank God. I couldn't handle all that math."

"Yeah…I think I have to take some astrophysics, since I want to serve on a starship right after I graduate. Studying is great, but I can't wait to get into space and apply all that I learn."

"Definitely. I'd love to be a nurse on a starship. Have you seen the Constitution class ships? They're beautiful!"  
"I know!" Dib agreed, "I almost wanted to be an engineer. But the biology of extraterrestrial creatures has always been an interest of mine. I'll let the technicians and engineers handle the ship. I'll just be grateful enough to get a chance to live in it."

"Yeah, I'm with you there." She polished off the rest of her cereal. "Did you know they launched the  _Enterprise_  recently? Either that or it's going to be launched soon…hell, I don't know, but I read it somewhere. It won't be back until..."

"It's returning in 2270. It launched last year."

"Oh," she said, blushing. "Guess I was reading some outdated news, then."

He smiled consolingly. "Don't worry about it. I follow the happenings of the Federation pretty adamantly—I have since I was a kid."

"I just wanted to be a doctor," Sara confessed. "And I happened to like space. So hey, if I could practice medicine  _in_  space it would be the best of both worlds, am I right?"

Dib nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. Having any job is cooler in space, really—more dangerous, but much more…er…" he struggled for the right word. "Cool," he finished lamely. "And hey, we could even be assigned to the same ship! Are you planning on heading into space right after graduation?"

"Yep. May of 2270. I'm counting down the days."

"Same here. Do you think they'll send the Enterprise back out the day it gets back?"

"Nah," Sara said. "I think that after five years they need to fix it up, or something. When a ship returns from a mission they usually upgrade it. That's what I heard, anyways."

"Ah. I guess we'll be getting another ship, then…"

"The  _Alecto_ 's a new one."

Dib frowned. "I actually haven't heard of that one."

"It's still under construction. One of my engineering friends mentioned it to me yesterday. He's really excited about it."

"It's Constitution class, right?"

"Yep. Why else would he be excited?"

Dib shrugged. "I don't know. I figured maybe they were coming out with a new breed of ship—it seems those engineers are always working, constantly improving…"

"Soon we'll be able to maintain warp 8 for hours at a time," she said proudly. "Whatever that means. I haven't taken physics since junior year of high school."

Dib gathered his tray and rose to his feet. "You might struggle in some of the classes, then."  
Sara shrugged, heading over to bus her tray. "My grades are strong enough in biology to make up for it." Dib followed her, placing his tray and plate onto the little conveyer belt. He watched it disappear into the bowels of the kitchen.

"So…what do we do now?" Dib asked.

"We can pick up our uniforms and a hardcopy of our schedules in room 336," she suggested. "But we have the rest of the day off. Might want to download a copy of  _The Articles of the Federation_ —we have to read the chapters on the Prime Directive for History class."

"How do you know all this?" he said, bewildered.

"They told us at orientation. After the speakers. Did you not stay that long?"  
He shook his head. "I had some reading to do. I thought it was over."

"Well, it's best you follow me, then." She pulled out an electronic pad, pulling up a map of the campus. "Room 336 is only a five minute walk from here. Wanna go now?"

"Sure," Dib said, absently scanning the crowd for Zim.

"Then come on!" She grabbed his forearm and led him towards the automatic doors; Dib thought he caught a glimpse of green skin, but he couldn't muster the strength to stop. When he looked again, it was gone, and he stumbled reluctantly after Sara.

* * *

The uniform was beautiful. A medium was baggy, and the small didn't fit him lengthwise, but he couldn't care less. He chose the prior and changed in the bathroom, admiring his reflection in the mirror; the insignia stood proudly on his chest, drawing attention away from his crooked glasses and disheveled black hair.

He emerged from the bathroom a new man, beaming at Sara.

"It's just a costume change, Dib. Not a big deal."  
"It's a huge deal. I finally fit in here." He grinned at her. "Besides, I look totally awesome!"

"You'll look awesome when you shave off that hair and get rid of those vintage glasses." She stuck out her tongue at him. "Now you just look like a colossal dork. You'd get along well with the engineers."

"Hey! My hair is awesome. I'm not shaving it all off just because other guys are too scared to be creative."

"Dib. You have the messiest, greasiest fauxhawk I have ever laid eyes on. And what's with that one piece of hair?" She grabbed a hold of it roughly. "It nearly sticks up straight and it's bent awkwardly and it's about three time as long as the rest of your hair."

"It's unique," Dib protested, withdrawing from her grip. "My dad wore his hair like this."

"Was he a mad scientist?"

Dib smiled. "Something like that."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Do you want to stop by the library to get a digital copy of  _The Articles_ , or…?"  
"Do they have any hardcopies?"

"Hardcopies? As in actual books that you have to carry around?"  
He nodded earnestly.

"Of all the people I've met here, you are the most bizarre."

Dib grinned sheepishly. "I'll take that as a compliment."

He checked out the only remaining hardcopy of  _The Articles_  while Sara downloaded the digital version onto her reading device; he had seen many students with them, but hand no particular desire to purchase one. When they finished, they parted ways; Sara was meeting a group of friends for lunch, and Dib was still hopeful in his search for Zim.  _I could have sworn I saw him this morning. He's definitely still on campus._

After half an hour of wandering he spotted the Irken, crouched under the same elm tree he'd been reading under that morning. Dib circled the tree and approached it from behind so as not to startle him—he wasn't getting a chance to walk away this time.

"Hey, Zim," Dib said, placing a hand firmly on his shoulder. "We never got to talk yesterday."

The Irken shot him a venomous look before returning his attention to his digital reading device.

"You can't ignore me forever, Zim."

"You underestimate my capacity for ignorance," Zim snarled. "Filthy Dib-stink. I should have known you'd bother me here."

"So you  _did_  follow me to the future!"

"No," Zim spat. "Stupid _hyu_ man. I would never chase the likes of you to this revolting future! I was doing just fine without your interference."

"Then why are you here?" Dib asked, sitting on the ground next to him.

Zim turned towards him, exasperated. "I didn't  _travel_  anywhere, imbecile, at least not in  _time_. My Irken body is far superior to yours, and I live much longer than you pathetic, smelly  _Earthlings_."

Dib's eyes widened. "You mean…you've been on Earth for two hundred  _years_?"

Zim snorted, returning his gaze to his book.

"Why…I mean, wouldn't your other aliens…be here by now?"

"None of that is your business," Zim snapped. "I have a plan, and it does not involve your interference. Leave me alone. Just because we are both trapped at this pathetic, juvenile learning-place together doesn't mean we have to speak with one another."

"You've…changed." Dib said slowly.

"A lot changes in two hundred years, Dib-stink."

Dib smiled slightly at the nickname. "You're more…eloquent. Still really crude, but you seem to form more complex sentences, and you're less melodramatic."

"Thank you for the evaluation of my speech patterns, Dib. Now kindly fuck off."

"Sarcasm  _and_  profanity! You're really starting to grasp the language."

Zim shot him a look one would give a screeching child on an intercontinental airplane flight.

"Sorry, sorry. But I do need to talk to you. I can't just let you be here without knowing your intentions. I have an obligation to the Academy to report you if you're trying to infiltrate the Federation. I won't stand for it."

Zim laughed. It wasn't a chuckle, and it wasn't quiet—it was an all-out, bone-chilling cackle, the ones that used to send him running from his lair in terror. Dib swallowed hard.

"Dib-worm," Zim began, "I have no interest in what information your  _Federation_  might have. I have learned all I need to know and more about you filthy  _hyu_ mans in the past two centuries. If I wanted to kill you all, I could. Easily."

"If that's supposed to reassure me, it's not working."

"If I were going to exterminate your race, don't you think I would have done so by now? Stupid Dib…you haven't changed at all. You never think things through." Zim smiled wickedly. "You dive straight into time portals without thinking twice."

Dib leapt to his feet, fuming. "That was  _your_  fault, Zim! You should have warned me!"

"Yes. I should have  _helped_  my sworn enemy in his plot to kill me. Why on Irk would I send him to a far away time where he can't interfere with my plans? What an odd thing for me to do."

"Okay, the sarcasm is really getting annoying."

Zim scowled. "In two hundred years I'd almost forgotten you existed. Until you picked the same damn year to join this confounded organization as me."

"Rotten luck, huh?"

"Be  _quiet_ , Dib-thing. Can you not take a hint?"

Dib sighed, sitting back down. They had garnered a few curious looks, and he lowered his voice accordingly. "No, I can't. Everyone I know from my previous life is dead. Except you. I don't want to be your enemy, Zim—not if you aren't up to anything mischievous."

"How touching."

"Seriously,  _enough_  with the sarcasm."

"Just because we knew each other ages ago doesn't mean I'm obliged to have any sort of contact with you. Now for the ten thousandth time  _go away_." Zim turned back towards his book.

"But I—"

"Go."

"I just want to—"

"Away."

Dib frowned, rising to his feet. "Fine, Zim. But this isn't over."

The Irken continued reading, blatantly ignoring him.

Dib sighed, leaving the alien in peace; he resolved to retreat to his room and catch up on classwork. The chapter on the prime directive wasn't a long read, but it wouldn't hurt to finish it before class started.

 


End file.
